Chapter 10

“Dale!”

That night, it was hardly surprising that Mother Elena sought out Dale’s room.

“Mother.”

Dale bowed his head toward his mother without flinching, his expression calm.

“Is it true you’re going on a campaign with Father to exterminate the orc hordes?”

“Yes.”

No matter how brilliant Dale’s talents might be, to his mother Elena, he was still just a nine-year-old child.

“Let’s talk to your father again.”

And in any world, a mother’s heart worrying about her child is much the same.

“There’s no need to worry.”

Dale quietly shook his head at Elena, who couldn’t hide her worry as she continued speaking.

“I will bear the weight of this duke’s house in the future.”

After shaking his head, he quietly reaffirmed his resolve and continued.

“For Mother and Father, and for my sister, ‘Lize,’ I must become even stronger.”

The Dale of today was no longer a pitiful avenger with nothing left to lose. Now he too had things to protect, and that fact never dulled the edge of Dale’s blade.

Rather, in the very moment he reflected on the burdens he must bear, Dale’s blade was sharpened more keenly than ever before.

“Besides, Father and Uncle Helmut are with us too.”

“Even so…”

“There’s no need to worry so much, Mother.”

Dale quietly embraced Elena.

“Please let me protect you.”

At those words, Elena swallowed softly. After swallowing, she quietly smiled.

Two hundred knights who answered the call from the knight commanders under the Duke of Saxony, who had been granted fiefs.

Fifty household knights stationed at the duke’s castle.

A total of two hundred and fifty cavalrymen, along with the elite ranger unit ‘Winter Watch’ stationed in the White Mountains.

A swift campaign. The forces the duke had assembled to crush the orc horde were units thoroughly specialized in mobile warfare.

And that night, in the conference room of Saxony Duchy Castle.

“The orc tribes have established a stronghold upstream on the Saxon River.”

“What’s the exact number of troops?”

“Roughly just under a thousand.”

As the herald of the Ranger unit ‘Winter Watch’ stationed in the White Mountains reported, the Duke of Saxony nodded quietly.

As always, vassals loyal to the ducal house stood in line, led by Lord Helmut.

Beyond the White Mountains, the harsh environment of the Demon King’s Domain spares not even monsters. Thus, the large-scale migration of starving monsters—that is, the raiding of the Duchy’s settlements—is hardly a major concern.

“Considering their dwindling supplies, it’s only a matter of time before they cross the river.”

Summarizing the available information, Sir Helmut Blackbear spoke up.

“Likely so.”

The Duke of Saxony offered no contradiction, merely nodding stoically.

“Shall we prepare a surprise attack timed for their crossing?”

“No.”

But the Duke of Saxony shook his head at Helmut’s next words.

“Before they can reorganize their forces and cross the river, we will strike first.”

“And how do you propose to do that?”

“We’ll send our cavalry ahead to cross downstream, join forces with the Ranger units, and launch a surprise attack.”

The Duke of Saxony declared. A momentary look of puzzlement crossed Helmut’s face upon hearing this.

“But Your Highness, downstream on the Saxon River, there are no fords wide enough to cross cavalry forces…”

“You needn’t worry about that point.”

However, it was Sepia, the 6th Circle elf mage, who dismissed Lord Helmut’s subsequent concerns.

“For this battle, the Elder Sepia of the Blue Tower has specially agreed to lend her aid.”

The Duke of Saxony continued.

“With my magic, I shall form an ‘Ice Bridge’ to carry all the cavalry across the lower reaches of the river.”

At those words, gasps of astonishment echoed throughout the gathering.

An ice bridge sturdy enough to carry hundreds of heavily armored cavalrymen, each weighing nearly a hundred kilograms, crossing the river simultaneously. Such a feat would be beyond the capabilities of ordinary mages. But a sixth-circle Water Elemental Elf Mage was anything but an ordinary mage.

“Of course, this is the extent of the assistance I can offer Your Highness.”

The doctrine of the Blue Tower was non-killing and harmony. Yet, she was willing to risk controversy to aid in battle for one reason alone.

Sepia’s gaze quietly shifted toward the seat beside the Duke of Saxony. There sat a nine-year-old child, silently listening to the vassals’ meeting.

“Thank you, Teacher Sepia.”

Dale, who had been listening intently, finally smiled and spoke.

Before the dawn sun could even peek its head out, the expedition began in the darkness.

Yet, regardless of his mother Elena’s worries, it was not strictly speaking even something that could be called a ‘battle’.

The Duchy of Saxony was perpetually exposed to the threat of monsters, and each time, they had been vanquished. Even at that very moment when the Black Duke himself led his men out alongside Lord Helmut, what sort of orc could dare wound Dale?

‘Yet worrying about one’s child—that must be a mother’s heart, after all.’

Dale smiled bitterly at that thought. After smiling, he turned his head away.

Two hundred and fifty knights stood, their black armor draped with ash-gray surcoats. Embroidered upon the surcoats was the raven crest symbolizing the House of Saxony.

The sword belt held an arming sword and a stiletto slung diagonally across it, while a large shield was strapped to his back like a backpack. In his hand, he gripped a lance easily several meters long.

Finally, the northern warhorses, clad in black horse armor, completed the armament.

Truly, the Saxon ducal house’s pride, the ‘Black Cavalry’, awaited orders after completing their deployment.

“Your Highness, please issue the order to march!”

Sir Helmut Blackbear, a knight clad in heavy armor from head to toe, spoke up.

“Dale.”

At those words, the Duke of Saxony quietly turned his head.

“Yes, Father.”

“This cavalry unit, the pride of our duke’s house, is also the force you will one day lead.”

The Black Cavalry. Among the top three most fearsome destroyers on the battlefield throughout the entire empire.

“In other words, these are soon to be your knights.”

Dale’s knights.

‘…My knights.’

A military force never granted to his former self.

“Issue the order to march in my stead.”

At his father’s words, Dale quietly swallowed. After swallowing, he nodded with resolve.

“Proud swords of House Saxon.”

With a solemn and weighty resonance beyond what one would expect from a nine-year-old.

“The time for departure has come.”

At Dale’s words, the knights simultaneously raised the lances they held in their hands.

“We obey the Master’s command!”

“For the Prince!”

“For the House of Saxon!”

The swallowtail-shaped pennants at the tips of the lances began to flutter in the dawn breeze.

The cold raced across the river.

Only where the river met the horizon did land become visible, and that stretch began to freeze rapidly as the rushing cold swept over it.

‘Truly, you are the master.’

It’s not something that can be achieved simply by freezing the water. It requires a strength capable of supporting hundreds of heavily armored cavalry crossing simultaneously. Moreover, they’ve even taken care to increase the friction to prevent the horses from slipping on the ice.

The water magic was flawless in both scale and sophistication. It was a marvel that the current Dail could never hope to replicate.

“I am forever indebted to Lord Sepia.”

Gazing down at the frozen river, the Duke of Saxony silently paid his respects.

“Thank you, sir.”

Dale, who had been standing guard beside the Duke, flashes a childlike, bright smile.

‘A bright smile.’

Could that truly be the expression of a child about to face battle with a horde of orcs? Sepia’s feelings as she watched Dale were truly complex beyond words.

“As a mage of the Blue Tower, this is all the help I can offer.”

Leaving the endless expanse of the frozen bridge behind, Sepia bowed her head. In the darkness of the early dawn, the frozen river shimmered like glass, and upon it, the cavalry began their crossing in unison.

Soon left alone, Sepia murmurs the words she couldn’t bring herself to say in front of Dale.

“Dale, please come back safely.”

The continent’s foremost commander and one of the Seven Swordsmen were protecting that boy. Logically speaking, it was almost impossible to even imagine Dale getting hurt.

Yet, just as a mother worries for her child, a master’s concern for his disciple was no different.

Light sliced through the dawn sky, thick with darkness. It was a fire arrow, signaling the start of the night raid.

A baptism of blazing, crackling flames.

The Ranger unit ‘Winter Watchers,’ pre-positioned in ambush, simultaneously launched flaming arrows. A swarm of fireballs embroidered the sky, plunging toward the orcs’ positions.

Whoosh!

“Gaaaah!”

Caught off guard by the unexpected ambush, the orcs raised their voices. A roar like that of beasts echoed, threatening to split their ears.

“First, Second, Third Squadron! Charge in wedge formation!”

Sir Helmut’s thunderous roar echoed in command of his knights, matching the intensity.

One hundred and fifty knights, divided into three battalions of fifty each, simultaneously tucked their lances under their arms and began their charge.

Couched Lance. The heavy cavalry charges, mercilessly plunging their lances into the panicked orcs scrambling to form a defensive formation.

The combined weight of knight, horse, and armor totals roughly 800 kilograms. Added to that weight is the acceleration of horses charging at full speed, plus the force of the cavalry lance driving downward.

Lance Charge.

It wasn’t even a fight. Even an orc would be as fragile as paper against the impact force of a heavily armored knight and his horse.

A march of destruction, like a steel truck crushing everything in its path.

And just as the offensive reached its peak, Lord Helmuth, surveying the battlefield from the ridge, raised his voice once more.

“Send the signal to order the 4th and 5th Cavalry Battalions waiting in the rear to charge.”

“Yes, sir!”

At his command, the messenger standing by shot something skyward.

Pwoong!

Something like a firework scattered blue light across the dawn sky. A magic signal flare.

“Charge!”

Simultaneously with the signal, the cavalry detachment that had been bypassing and lying in wait near the Orc camp launched their charge.

A storm of steel swept in from all directions.

“Watch closely.”

Similarly, observing the battle from the ridge, the Duke of Saxony spoke calmly.

“This is the strength of the cavalry our ducal house prides itself upon.”

Even amidst the endless crisscrossing cavalry charges and successive deployments, they never broke formation.

The true strength of knights lies not merely in the raw power unleashed by a single Oru Blade, but in the tactical destructive force born of thorough organization.

‘Truly overwhelming.’

Dale quietly swallowed, unable to hide his pure astonishment.

“It’s one-sided.”

“It’s still too early to let your guard down, young master.”

However, unlike Dale’s admiration, Sir Helmut remains cautious.

‘Well, that’s to be expected.’

No sooner had he thought the cavalry’s successive charges had turned the field into a wasteland than another beast-like roar echoed.

No matter how you looked at it, the orc horde outnumbered them four to one. Moreover, their opponents were a warlike race born with the spirit of warriors.

Moreover, no matter how unimaginably powerful a cavalry charge might be, it couldn’t sustain an endless offensive.

Just as the cavalry charge began to falter, the surviving orcs launched their counterattack.

A dense formation utilizing the long spear formation for cavalry defense. Once the formation was finally established, the subsequent cavalry charges could no longer unleash the same destructive force as before.

“The surprise attack was quite effective, but it didn’t inflict enough damage to annihilate them.”

Lord Helmut surveyed the battlefield from the ridge, calmly assessing the situation.

“First, withdraw the troops to reorganize the front lines. We will break their phalanx with successive charges.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a messenger beside him fired the signal flare for retreat. Simultaneously, the cavalry encircling the orcs’ phalanx turned their horses around in unison.

After swiftly and rapidly withdrawing the troops, they realign their formation and launch a cavalry charge. No matter how formidable the orcs’ defensive formation may be, this is ultimately a battle with a clear outcome.

It was at that very moment.

“Gaaaah!”

Whoosh!

Javelins, carrying the full force of the orcs, surged toward the retreating cavalry as they turned their horses.

They were insufficient to harm the heavily armored knights. However, a few exceptionally lucky spears succeeded in piercing through the gaps in the less-dense horse armor.

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

One horse, struck through its vital spot, screams and collapses. The knight riding it is thrown from the saddle by the impact.

Out of the two hundred and fifty retreating knights, just one. Truly, he had no luck.

And to finish off the lone fallen rider, several Orc swordsmen began closing in.

Toward the prey, unable to move properly due to the shock of the fall.

“One casualty.”

Nevertheless, the Duke of Saxony and Lord Helmut merely maintain their composure, as if it were all within their expectations. As if they were merely witnessing the knight’s death.

‘Casualties…’

No matter how you look at it, this is a battlefield. Victory without a single casualty is an absurd notion. Dale understood this principle well.

“──Why are you just watching?”

Nevertheless, Dale asked again.

“The proud sword of House Saxon was exposed defenseless before the enemy. Why are we just watching?”

He wasn’t waiting for an answer. After asking, Dale pulled on the reins without hesitation.

There was no leisurely time to wait for their kind replies.

At the same time.

“──Ice Bolt, ‘Barrett M98B’, ‘8.58x70mm’.”

For bolt-type magic, where speed is life, chanting spells aloud is almost unheard of. After all, the very first lesson taught to novice mages at the Magic Tower is the incantationless casting of bolts.

And the formula Dale added afterward was something no one in this world could understand.

Barrett M98B.

8.58x70mm ─ .338 Lapua Magnum.

A bolt-action sniper rifle and its ammunition, specialized for long-range anti-personnel sniping.

To others, it would likely appear as nothing more than a string of unidentifiable cryptic symbols.

That’s why, upon seeing the formula Dale added, Blackstone dismissed it as the reckless whim of a foolish child.

The mistake of novice mages who mistake spells for ‘magic that manifests exactly as spoken’ and arbitrarily insert words only they can understand.

No matter how much magic is the embodiment of the mind, for a spell to become a true incantation, it requires very definite symbols shared across all eras and cultures.

Without such a powerful image existing, it cannot function as a spell for self-suggestion.

It should have been.

──Thud!

The ice bolt released from his fingertips shot an absurd distance, plunging into the skull of the orc swordsman.

‘Ice Bolt? No, it can’t be.’

Seeing that, the Black Mage could only swallow hard.

The essence of lethality shot from Dale’s fingertips was something that could no longer even be called a bolt.